In this modern age, Ancient Greece seems very far away. Nike is a brand, Oedipus is a complex, and the Olympians are cycling around a velodrome in Colorado Springs. These mythological figures have been referenced so many times as to seem clay caricatures of themselves, worn like fragments of pottery in the basement of a museum. However, under Barbara Oliver's direction, Euripides' "The Bacchae" is not another abuse of ancient lore. Instead, it's a liberation of one of those Classical shards, thrown under Zellerbach Playhouse's new lighting system so audiences can see the poignancy and relevance of drama before the common era.

"The Bacchae" relays an early part of Thebes' ill-fated history, which will subsequently include the exploits of aforementioned psychoanalytic touchstone Oedipus. At the play's opening, Dionysus appears, played by a shimmering and effective Carl Holvick-Thomas. This god of wine and revelry is the son of Zeus and mortal Theban noble Semele. Regrettably for his mother and her family, Dionysus is not being shown proper reverence by Pentheus, his cousin and the current King of Thebes. Though seemingly intricate in print, the interrelations of the House of Thebes are striking and clear onstage. Neil Curry's modern English translation greatly facilitates the play's accessibility to a contemporary audience, an effort enhanced by excellent performances.

Though Carl Holvick-Thomas as Dionysus is clearly attuned to the visceral currents that undulate beneath the poetry, he also manages to depict the mythological figure's fluidity. Dionysus simultaneously epitomizes and transcends the oppositions of toxic ivy and intoxicating grapevine, of masculine and feminine. Holvick-Thomas embraces the god's wit, warmth and cruelty, accomplishing the arduous task of humanizing the divine. Like the play as a whole, Dionysus is not simply one of Antiquity's relics, but a living character.

In a tragedy of extremities like "The Bacchae," human moments may be the most difficult to capture. However, given the refinement of the cast, they are also the most memorable. Ricardo Salcido in the role of Cadmus, Pentheus' father, and Tanmay Dhanania as Teiresias manage to deliver one of the most touching exchanges in the play as two elderly men preparing to dance in worship of Dionysus. In the play's final moments, Emily Rose Meade makes a heart-breaking revelation as Agave, Pentheus' mother. Though the text is many centuries old, it retains its vibrancy through these bold interpretations.

This boldness of performance is enriched by a certain understatement of content. Unlike most contemporary plays, "The Bacchae" adheres to the principles of decorum; brutal, shocking and indecent acts are not shown expressly to the audience. Rather, they are relayed by characters who deliver the news to others. While it seems that this obligation to tell rather than to show would be cumbersome or tedious to watch, it's exactly the opposite. Robert Bergin as the Messenger succeeds in efforts to enthrall with tales of events that were too violent to have occurred onstage. His performance is evocative and multilayered, though it could have easily descended into a monotonous recitation of facts.

Dionysus, in addition to his many other roles in the Ancient Greek belief system, was considered the patron deity of theater. Doubtlessly, this production would have made him proud. "The Bacchae" is a revival in the truest sense of the word. It fleshes out characters that had eroded into ruins, it reawakens the bearing of the past on the present, and it gives life to that which has long passed us by.